Treason
by WallofIllusion
Summary: Halle and Mello have a pleasant chat regarding trust, motive, and the finer points of treason. K plus for some swearing.


Warnings: some cursing.

Edit, 11/05: Slight modifications to Halle's motivation to make it more accurate.

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**Treason**

On a cold Monday evening in late November, Halle returned home from the SPK to find that Mello had fallen asleep in her bed. This was unusual; he, like Near, seemed to need a good deal less sleep than the average human being, and upon the rare occasion that Halle did catch him sleeping, he was usually sprawled out in the armchair. In any case, it was strange to see him looking so like an ordinary person.

Not, Halle thought wryly as she approached, that he looked particularly different from when he was awake. The only real difference was that his eyes were closed; other than that, he had somehow managed to maintain his usual sour expression, accentuated as it always was by the recently-healed wound on the left side of his face. Somehow, too, his fists remained clenched. Halle supposed it wasn't a particularly relaxing sleep she was observing.

Still, something about the way Mello was curled up reminded Halle of a child, and that was strangely endearing. Gently, she reached down and brushed a strand of hair back from his face.

His eyes opened at once; Halle quickly pulled her hand back. He stared at her for a second before asking flatly, "What?"

"Nothing," Halle replied as he sat up. She had been wrong; he certainly didn't look happy while asleep, but his usual scowl, firmly back in place now, was considerably more unpleasant and suspicious. "Sorry to have woken you."

Mello didn't reply, and after a few moments, Halle tilted her head. "Are you hungry?"

"Sure…?" Mello answered, wary and disbelieving.

"Do you want anything in particular for dinner?"

Mello simply snorted in response. Halle sighed and decided that salmon sounded nice.

Mello kept his eyes on her as she poached the salmon and prepared a salad; to her surprise, he actually came to the table when she set down two plates, but he didn't start eating. He just sat, wordlessly, watching her skeptically.

After about five minutes, Halle grew tired of that and put down her fork. "You know, I'm certainly not expecting thanks, but you could at least stop glaring at me as though you think I've poisoned your food."

Mello continued to glower for a few more seconds before asking distrustfully, "What do you _want_?"

"It might be nice to eat my dinner without you watching my every bite, for one," Halle replied mildly.

"That's not what I _mean_," Mello pointed out in exasperation, "and you know that. Why are you… taking _care_ of me?"

"I kind of like you. You interest me," Halle offered, rather enjoying Mello's resulting look of bafflement. "Why? Is there a reason I shouldn't be doing so?"

"Because I'm a murderer, a former Mafia member, and a kidnapper. I killed most of your organization and left you alive so that I could force you to give me information on pain of death, which is the current situation. You need more reason than that?"

Halle raised her eyebrows, suddenly more business-like. "Careful," she warned. "That comes dangerously close to a confession. I could have you arrested."

Mello rolled his eyes. "You could try," he sneered.

"I could do it," Halle answered serenely. "I could tell Near that you're here when I go back to the SPK tomorrow. He'd send over a squad to arrest you, and there'd be nothing you could do about it."

Mello's sneer quickly became a scowl; obviously he felt threatened by Halle's words. He leaned towards her menacingly. "Or I could just shoot you right now," he snarled.

But Halle simply sat back and picked up her fork again. "You certainly could do that," she agreed. "And _yet_, despite all these options we each have, here we are, sharing a pleasant chat over dinner." She took a bite of salmon and watched Mello.

He narrowed his eyes, but after a moment he grudgingly began to eat. They finished their meal without another word. Halle collected the dishes and brought them to the sink to wash them, turning her back on Mello to do so.

This proved to be unwise, however, because within a few seconds she heard the distinct _click_ of a gun being cocked and felt something hard pushed into the back of her head.

"I'm beginning to wonder if this is the only way to get a straight answer out of you, you damn woman," Mello growled from behind her.

Moving slowly, Halle turned to face him. "I assure you, that isn't necessary," she said coolly, making a half-hearted attempt to push the gun away.

Mello didn't move. "Do you think I wouldn't do it?" he asked, giving her a smile that was more like a grimace. "I will. You're nothing to me if you won't tell me what I ask."

"Then why don't you first tell me what it is you want to hear?" Halle replied, unable to keep irritation out of her voice. "Despite what you seem to think, I _have_ been giving you straight answers."

Mello's face tensed and twisted into a scowl. After a moment, he gritted his teeth and demanded, "_What does he want you to do with me?_"

"This has nothing to do with Near!" Halle insisted at once. Mello looked unconvinced and pushed the gun a little closer to her forehead. Halle gave a short sigh. "If I said I had orders to keep you alive and healthy so he could later question you about the notebook, you'd be satisfied then, wouldn't you?"

Mello said nothing, only shifted his grip on his gun, his face bitter.

"Because that's _not_ the case," Halle added vehemently. "I haven't told him that you're here. As far as I can tell, he has no idea."

"Just what the hell are you up to, then?" Mello snarled. He put the barrel of the gun right up against Halle's forehead, and she pulled back instinctively. "You're not like Ratt," Mello continued heatedly. "You can't be bought. You're not stupid enough to turn traitor—that's been obvious from the beginning. But you keep—acting like _this_—"

"This isn't treason, Mello," Halle interrupted.

"Oh really?" Mello snapped, voice laden with sarcasm.

"The only act of treason I could commit would be to hand you over to Kira." She watched as his eyes widened slightly and his grip on the gun unconsciously loosened. "Get it now?"

Mello was silent for a long minute, and then finally lowered his gun. "I'm curious," he stated. "Why are you so firmly opposed to Kira?"

Halle raised an eyebrow. "You mean other than the fact that he's the most prolific serial murderer the world has ever known?"

"Yes, other than that," Mello answered with a phony pleasantness. "Because obviously that has ceased to matter to at least seventy percent of the world."

Halle gave a bitter laugh. "Fair enough." She bit her lip, then walked around Mello to sit down on the table. His eyes followed her keenly, but she didn't look back at him. Crossing her legs and leaning back on her hands, she explained, "Someone I knew was killed by Kira. Or—by Kyosuke Higuchi, I suppose. He wasn't a criminal. He was in Yotsuba's way." She paused, and then raised her eyes to Mello's and continued coolly, "I don't know what relationship the Kira we're chasing now has to the one who killed him. Maybe Kira used Higuchi, maybe they're unconnected. I don't care. I'm sick of the world treating Kira like a god. He is _not_ a god, he is not omniscient, and he is not justice. All Kira cares about is himself—he's just using 'justice' as his excuse."

Mello stared back at her. "The guy who was killed… was he important to you?" he asked, and Halle was surprised to hear a hint of something suspiciously like sympathy in his rough voice.

She tilted her head to study him for a moment. Finally, without answering his question, she said, "You know, you're nothing like I'd expected you to be."

If Mello minded her change of subject, he didn't show it, and he smoothly replied to her statement. "Oh? And what were you expecting?"

"Well…" Halle mused. "I thought you'd be older, for some reason. That, and… harsher, more brutal, more impulsive…" _More everything Near's not._ Because when it all came down to it, the two were frighteningly similar, much more like the two sides of a coin than the polar opposites she'd thought they'd be.

Mello stared at her silently and without expression, and she shrugged in response. "That's just the kind of impression I got from the way Near refers to you."

Mello snorted and looked away. "Yeah, you'll get the wrong impression listening to him." But then his face took on a serious look, with just a hint of distaste. After a moment, he spoke again. "Near doesn't… I don't think Near looks at this whole thing the right way.

"No," he corrected himself, "it's more that he _can't_. Things just can't look the same from the perspective of number one." The distaste on his face became more pronounced. "Sometimes I don't even think he considers the competition valid. It doesn't mean anything to him—but to me, it's everything. It's my whole life. Nothing means more to me."

He looked back at Halle with sunken shoulders. "It doesn't really surprise me that you'd think me impulsive from what Near says about me. I'm _not_, normally, but when it comes to him… anything that has to do with him…" Regret was in his voice. "No matter how hard I try to keep calm… he says or does something that's just so _him_ that I lose control." He gave a bitter laugh. "And then I make a fool of myself, and he _still doesn't care_. I lose again, and nothing changes for him at all."

Mello looked away again, dejected, and Halle stared at him silently. Then, slowly, she reached out to place a hand on his head and pull him towards her. Something about this boy, something about the way he combined determination and hope with the discouragement he so often faced, made her heart swell. Ignoring his suspicious glance, she kissed him lightly on the forehead.

He jerked back immediately. "What the hell?"

She met his incredulous stare and let her hand slip down through his hair to settle at the base of his neck. _ I want to protect you. I want to help you._ "I wish you luck," she said softly.

He offered no thanks for the sentiment but, after a moment, shot her a tight, patronizing smirk and quipped, "I suppose you're going to tell me that's not treason either?"

Halle answered him with a light, mischievous smile. "No… I'll admit that that might be."

* * *

You decide if it's slight HallexMello. I'm done trying to figure that out. I give up. 


End file.
